“How would my husband like being mounted and dominated, almost straightaway?” Bahram was asked almost as soon as his wife, Shahrezad the Storyteller and English teacher, had come home for her noontime rest.
“May I undress first, assertive only wife of mine?”
“I might let you, this once, but hurry.”
“What is the urgency? Is that what they accused you of today, in class? I feel sorry for the poor guards.”
“Well, you may, husband of great consideration. Since I have been thus accused, I now feel like doing it to you.”
“Who do you think...“
“Later, my patient husband; haven’t you undressed yet; does it always take you this long?“
Bahram, Acting-in-Charge of all criminal investigation in Far Province (for the time being) had been dropped, as promised, near the gate of Shiraz’rather famous Rose Garden where the gatekeeper had recognised him (no wonder, with two cousins in the Police Force) and directed the tired policeman to where the workers were having a cigarette… smoko.
They had given him some naan, a cup of coffee and some raisins which he had gratefully accepted and happily munched while listening to them talking among each other, reflecting what had happened and why someone wanted to control his investigating the case of the hapless - and harmless - Parsee. He had fallen asleep, no wonder, and the workers had guided him to a bench where to rest further, away from the sun. He had then gone home, washed and made himself a pot of green tea, just as his wife arrived, all charged up.
Under his wife’s practised mount, he adjusted his body underneath her while she rose upright, riding him tightly between her thighs, opening her mouth slightly and moaning softly while thrusting against him. She gripped his testicles, hard, for him to raise his arms in submission; she then bent forward, pinioning both his wrists in an unexpected iron grip, while pushing against him and kissing him demandingly, hard, not letting go.
A few minutes later, she made him come by wedging her thighs between his, forcing his legs apart thereby; Bahman yielded, in utter surprise, and came, with some force, onto her, inside her and onto the mat as well, pumping it out even after she had rolled off him, having achieved possession.
“Do men like being dominated by their wives or girl friends?” she asked him later.
“This one does not mind being physically subject and sexually submissive to his one wife.”
“I’ll keep this in mind,“ she retorted, turning on the teacher-act. “That was not what I was asking you, dear; I mean, generally and if so, why?”
“Look, men are supposed to be all-conquering heroes, so it is a relief to be overpowered, at times, and not have to be on top all the time; then, women these days are often better equipped for life than men, including sex life... that, probably, does reflect... never mind, it is fun, take me like that more often, especially after you have been provoked into doing it.”
“Those…”( a most unlady-like comment on Revolutionary Guards.) “You are right, the girls did take strips out of them, nice economy of effort between them and me, even if I say so myself. These boys were pleased to leave intact.”
“They were called off, by none less that our resident Ayatollah himself, as I was also freed at the same time.”
“One wonders why. Some girl managed to send a text message to his granddaughter Leila, next classroom, in some gory detail, no doubt, blow-by- blow. I hate it when the girls do that in class, this time, of course...”
“She must have gotten through to her grandfather quite quickly.”
“He dotes on her and she, doubtlessly, has ways of bypassing even his minders and his office manager, to contact him directly.”
“Good on her, I say; these girls are quite loyal.”
“You are not wrong; they escorted me within sight of home then hid, in case some guards meant to intercept me at our doorstep; they’ll be back again this afternoon.”
“Ask them in; I won’t leave until they arrive.”
“Let’s eat; I brought some food, naan, vegetables, dried fish, fresh vegies, cheese; make us some fresh tea, would you, acting-in-charge?“
“Can you think up a story, favourite storyteller of mine, just yet?”
“Not quite, you haven’t told me enough, probably don’t know a lot yourself. One thing is obvious, even to you, no doubt.“
“Someone close to the Ayatollah’s office wants me not to investigate at all.”
“The Ruhollah?”
“Too obvious, someone is triggering his particularly obnoxious manner to get results; it does not take much to wind him up and then he goes off.“
“The Ayatollah is so different, a gentleman and a genuine scholar.“
“Yes, he likes his history.”
Bahman had, at one stage, taught history at Police College, his talks having proved so popular so that the general public was, on occasion, allowed to attend, the Ayatollah having done so several times, having been most impressed by one such talk on gun-metal fabrication in the nineteenth century, at the Military Armaments Museum of Shiraz.
The couple ate and drank tea companionably, sitting on a carpet Shahrezad’s grandmother had once owned.
“Whatever made that poor Indian Parsee kill himself?”
“He did not, at least according to our post mortem.”
“Oh, Professor Ehadi!”
“Why not metal?”
“The nature of the indentation, Professor Ebadi said. It reminded him of the impact certain arrows used to have whose head had been made of very old ivy or juniper, used to great effect even once we had guns and artillery.”
“A museum, maybe?”
“Oh, someone ‘borrowed’ an arrowhead which could have been flint, even, as well as hardwood, out of a collection where one less might not be noticed for a while if ever, then stuck that in close to the top of a cane or walking stick, slicing or boring it, to fit in that head, and then practiced wielding it, for immediate impact.”
“Golf or tennis players would be able to hit with such strength and accuracy, as might stickball players.“
“Not common here among adults; I know that children do it, at our schools.”
“Their instructors?“
“Sports teachers? Then, anyone might learn how to do it, first stroke, with some practice."
“Practice on what?”
“Watermelons, at first, for general impact, being the size of a head, then PVC couplings, for accuracy and comparable thickness and material strength, maybe sawn down to vertebra-size; it would have needed practice, even for an accomplished sportsman or…”
“Butcher?”
“I had thought of that; we slaughter by slitting an animal’s throat, halal-fashion, as you know, yet people who kill small venison or livestock might stun these first, perhaps with a tool like that... thank you, premier wife and dominant lover of mine… I think your girls’ brigade has arrived, or is about to. I can see a few of them in the passage opposite; don’t turn; get ready while I talk to them on the verandah.“
Bahram stepped out and greeted the girls as the first of them arrived.
“Did they let you go, too, Chief Inspector?”
“Leila did a god job, thank her for me, girls, will you?”
“You may do so yourself, Sir; here she is; Leila, be nice to the Chief Inspector.“
“It has been a pleasure, Sir. The girls told me what they offered to do to them by way of demonstration.”
“Leila!”
“Competently, no doubt?”’ the policeman concluded, with a smile; the girls laughed and let him go back to work, waiting for their teacher, to take her back to school.
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